Even though I was the one who had suggested the Frye Art Museum as the location for the
46th quarterly World Wide SketchCrawl, I have to admit I wasn’t very inspired. Not that the art wasn’t
interesting – some of it was – but I found most of it to be unsketchable. In
addition, some of us pen sketchers felt constrained by the museum’s media
restrictions. I made a valiant attempt at capturing a cage-like structure made
of bamboo, part of Jessica Kenney’s exhibit, “Anchor Zero,” with colored
pencils.

After a couple more walks through all the exhibits trying to
find something to sketch, I gave up and went out to my car across the street in
Frye’s lot, where I had strategically parked facing St. James Cathedral’s twin towers. The first time I had sketched those
towers from nearly the same position was almost exactly two years ago. (I’m not sure my architectural drawing skills have
improved much, but maybe my color is a little better.)

1/31/15 Caran d'Ache Museum pencils

A small but enthusiastic group of Seattle Urban Sketchers gathered
in the foyer to share sketches. We barely got a group photo taken before we
were shushed – a tour had just begun! Welcome to new members Magdalena and
Ryan!

I’ve been using an Apprentice (the limited Time Travel
edition) for the past week as my catch-all notebook/sketchbook – a place to put sketches when I don’t have my regular
sketchbook with me or when I need a smaller format to be discreet. Earlier this
week I attended a presentation on climate change (which included a screening of
the excellent and disturbing Showtime documentary, “Years of Living Dangerously”). During the open forum portion when audience
members spoke, I decided I could listen better if I sketched at the same time (as I’d discovered previously). Pulling
out the little Apprentice was just right: Small and discreet, it probably
looked like I was taking notes, not sketching.

1/27/15 Iroshizuku Tsukushi ink, Baron Fig Apprentice notebook

As expected from my experience with the Confidant, the
smooth yet not-too-smooth paper is a pleasure to use with a fountain pen. Also
expected was the significant show-through on the reverse side. I like the thin,
small format as well as the paper surface enough that I had toyed with the idea
of using the Apprentice as a travel sketchbook (a role played by a Rhodia notebook most recently). Unfortunately,
the show-through is a deal-breaker; I need more substantial paper if it’s going
to travel with me. Maybe I’ll get my expressed wish, and Baron Fig will come through with a heavier paper!

The Japanese writing in the background is a letter my unclewrote to my mother.

She had saved everything, especially handwritten letters, and
I found all of it when I cleaned out my parents’ house after she died. I was
left with this dilemma: Store it all for the next several decades, just as she had?
I didn’t want that burden; it turns out that I had inherited her penchant for
saving handwritten letters, so I had my own stash of stuff to store. And yet I
didn’t have the heart to throw it all out, either.

I eventually made a body of work of collages incorporating old
handwritten papers (the artist statement is on my website), so that took care of my dilemma. I could get rid of the
stash (hers and my own), but the handwritten papers would be reused in a
creative way. I now use the same process for the sketchbook covers.

So here’s the “secret” about the covers: After I had moved
out on my own, my mom had written me many letters, and I store them all in a box separate from the rest of the stash. Sometimes when I miss her, I randomly pick one from the box to
read. She was also famous for sending out very brief postcards even to local
friends – almost like texting! – when she had only a bit of information to
convey, because she didn’t like making phone calls. I have a number of
postcards like this also, containing nothing more than a confirmation of an
appointment or an address I had asked for.

Above the sketch is a fragment of a postcard from my mom.

Although anything with her handwriting feels precious to me,
these brief, perfunctory postcards seem more dispensable than actual letters. Lately
I’ve been scanning their contents and then tearing them up for use only in my sketchbook
cover collages – one piece per cover (close-up at left). I like the thought of a tiny piece of my
mom’s handwriting being a part of each sketchbook. A pragmatic woman, she would
have applauded my reuse of the paper.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

I could have gone to life drawing at Gage, but instead I went
to real-life drawing at Zoka Coffee. Unlike paid models, my unwitting models at
Zoka tend to come and go as they please. If I expect to complete a whole sketch
of an individual, it’s likely that I’ll be frustrated. So I learned long ago
that it’s fine to leave their ghost on the page and carry on with the sketch.

Technical note: I’ve been using Canson XL 140-pound paper consistently
in my handbound sketchbooks for well over a year because it gives me the best
balance between the weight and the degree of tooth, and the price is reasonable.
I recently bought a new package of it, and the paper has changed! One side is
much toothier than the other, and I really noticed the difference with my
fountain pens today – its texture was rough enough that my nibs were snagging at
times. Dangit! As many other sketchers and artists have discovered, as soon as
we find a product we like, it changes! Aauuggghhh!

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

In Shoreline early this morning to drop something off at a
client’s office, I saw that a faint hint of peachy-pink still tinted the
clouds. I quickly chose a tree to silhouette against that sublime sky.

This may be one of my favorite chopped-tree-with-power-lines
sketches due mainly to that bird that appeared briefly on the wire. Usually if
I sketch a distant bird, I make the mistake of showing it in profile, inevitably
making the beak disproportionately large. With a blunt twig in my hand, I knew
I wouldn’t be able to make a fine enough mark to draw the beak, so with quick stroke, I sketched it
from the back instead.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Yesterday I was given a unique opportunity: My yoga
instructor, Fran Gallo, invited me
to sketch during one of her classes. When I’m taking Fran’s class myself, I
have often thought that sketching the other students would be an interesting life
drawing exercise, so I was thrilled when Fran suggested it.

It seemed like the short-pose life drawing sessions I attend at Gage would have been good training for
sketching at yoga, and they were – to some extent. But the shortest pose the
models hold at life drawing is one minute. In Fran’s class, the students hold some
strenuous, challenging poses for a lot less than a minute – perhaps 30 seconds
or less. Yesterday’s class gave me a workout in speed sketching! I thought it might
help that I practice yoga myself: If I had to visually memorize a pose to
finish drawing it, my own body’s memory of the pose should remind me. That’s a
good theory, but in reality, it was no less challenging than if I didn’t
practice yoga!

In the past, I’ve used yoga as a metaphor for drawing. I’ll do it again: As I filled 13 pages
in my sketchbook during the 75-minute class, I needed the first few pages to
warm up and find my flow. Eventually I did, and the sketches came more fluidly,
just as the poses seemed to flow more easily for the students. After a while, I
got tired, and the sketches weren’t as good, but in exchange I had gained a
different kind of energy that comes from close observation and recording what I
observe. During the final shavasana, I rested along with the
students, feeling calm and strong.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Sometimes people who live in other parts of the country ask how
we can stand to live in a climate that is rainy, drizzly, cloudy or overcast
for much of the year.

Today, Jan. 25, the temperature is 63 degrees, and the only clouds
I see are as thin as a whisper.

Today, this is the answer.

Technical note: This sketch seemed to demand watercolor
only, but I didn’t have quite enough confidence to paint Mt. Rainier’s shape without
some kind of line first. A dark blue water-soluble pencil makes an ideal line – it
just dissolves once the paint is applied.

Spoiler alert: These are some of the nibs you'll meet in this epic blog
post series.

Impulse buying is not something I’m known for. (The last
time I made a totally impulsive purchase, I came home with a Hello Kitty Pez dispenser collector’s box
to hold my then-small ink collection – but who could resist that?). Whether
it’s a clothes washer or a can of soup, I tend to read reviews and labels
carefully. I do my research.

At the same time, I always come out strong as a J on the Myers-Briggs type indicator, which
means I’m not comfortable with lots of options, and I prefer to seek closure
and resolution rather than keep things open. In terms of shopping, that means I
like to make the purchase as soon as I’ve made the decision to buy something.
Once I decide, I don’t like continuing to look for more options.

All of this is preamble to documenting the epic
search-and-discovery mission I have been on since last August that I’m finally
ready to begin describing. (It’s going to take me a while, though – I’ve
written seven parts so far, which will appear weekly on Sundays.) Six months
may not seem epic to you, but for me it is, mainly because of my discomfort
with unresolved searches. And as of this writing, the search continues.

The object of my search? The
grail of variable-line-width fountain pen nibs.

Before I get to the search itself, I should explain why such
a nib has become so interesting (OK, obsessive) to me. What’s the big deal?
What’s wrong with a plain ol’ conventional, single-width pen nib?

For my first couple of years as a sketcher, I used mainly
single-width writing instruments of various types – first a variety of
technical pens (such as one favorite, the Copic Multiliner SP), which are designed to produce a consistent line width, and
eventually Lamy and Pilot fountain pens. I was happy with each at the
time.

The Sailor fude nib.

Somewhere in 2013, variable-width writing instruments moved
into my radar range, and after trying a few, the first to really grab my
attention was the cheap Sailor
“calligraphy” pen(with what I now know is the fude nib). Not overnight,
but slowly and gradually that pen changed the way I drew by making me more
aware of the expressive line – and how a varying line width can be a large part
of that expression.

Shown at right are two sketches I made of the same tree in
Shoreline as examples. Although I would probably typically add color to the sky
and maybe more shading, I deliberately left these sketches minimal to emphasize
the line work in the tree.

The one on top was made with a Pilot Petit1 fine nib fountain pen– a perfectly serviceable,
extremely inexpensive and highly reliable pen with a firm, conventional nib
that makes a clean, consistent line. The one below it was made with my trusty Sailor fude.

Which one seems to describe more about the tree and, I hope,
tells more about how I was feeling about this tree? To me, it’s the one
sketched with the Sailor fude.

Perhaps the difference between the two sketches is subtle,
but it’s a huge difference to me – in the way I feel while I’m sketching. And so the search began.

(To be comprehensive in my documentation, before I get to
the nib search itself, I’ll mention here two other contenders among
variable-line width drawing instruments that I’ve discussed previously: the twig (surely able to produce the
most variable – if also unpredictable – line width) and westerncalligraphy nibs.
I’m happy with the twigs I currently use, and if I’m not, I can always go out
to the backyard and pick up a few new ones, so I’m not including twigs in this
epic search. Likewise, I currently own as many calligraphy nibs as I’ll
probably ever consider for sketching, and I’m not fond of them for that purpose
anyway, so I’m not searching for more.)

Two other variable-line-width sketching tools I've tried:
Above, a Lamy Vista fitted with a 1.5mm calligraphy nib;
below, a twig from my backyard -- the most variable (and
unpredictable) line width I've used.

Readers of this blog have heard me refer to “my trusty
Sailor pen,” which has appeared on my Top 10 list both this year and last year.
I absolutely love the variable line width that crazy nib can make with just a front-to-back
tilt, and I’ve been amazed that its price is under $20 (under $10, including shipping, when
purchased online at J-Subculture)
for such a fantastic pen. My only complaint is related to its plastic body,
which, though comfortably lightweight, is a bit too slender, looks cheesy and
insubstantial, and posting its cap causes the trim ring on the end to fall off.
Even the slightly higher-priced Sailor Profit model,which has the identical fude nib, isn’t much better. I had
resigned myself to putting up with the less-than-satisfactory pen body to use
this favorite of nibs.

The Sailor "calligraphy" fude pen (top) and the Sailor Profit
model with the identical fude nib.

It had never occurred to me that the same type of nib could
be acquired on a better quality body. Seeing that photo of Mike’s much more handsome
and higher-quality Sailor with a fude nib turned on the proverbial light bulb
over my head.

I immediately e-mailed Mike for more information, and that’s
when I discovered that the fude is only one of many different types of specialty nibs that Sailor makes. The
fude nib itself could be purchased in a 21kt gold version that Mike said is a
whole different experience from that of the steel nib I have – the same, but
better. It would be the Mother of All Fude Nibs! What’s more, it turns out that
Sailor sells outside of Japan only through a few authorized dealers, and the
pens with specialty nibs can only be purchased through a third-party vendor.
Further research led me to one such vendor, Engeika.com, which stocks a dazzling array of Sailors, including
several models that could be custom-made with a fude nib and finessed by nibmaster Nagahara himself – a process
that could take up to six months. My grail was still far away but in sight! All
I had to do was order.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Under any circumstance, it doesn’t take much to get me to go
to Fran’s Chocolates. And with my
sketchbook? Meeting the Friday ad hoc sketchers at Fran’s new Georgetown location this morning was my idea of heaven: Sipping a mocha so rich I could
have eaten it with a spoon, the scent of chocolate wafting gently from the kitchen,
I sketched the workers handcrafting jewel-like creations through a huge window.

As I sketched, Fran’s daughter Andrina came by to chat, and I
told her that I have fond memories of shopping at Fran’s back in the ‘80s when
she had a small storefront in Madison Valley. Fran’s newest location is in a building
that started out as the Rainier Brewery’s ice house in 1902, Andrina said. It’s
now a sparkling-white kitchen and spacious coffee and confection shop for the
family-run business.

Although it was fun to tour Theo Chocolates a couple of years ago, it wasn’t conducive to sketching
because we had to stay with the group and couldn’t linger where the action was.
At Fran’s, I could sketch by the window at my leisure with a perfect view of
all the activity.

Afterwards I joined the other sketchers in the café and
retail area, where an employee helped a customer pick out chocolates like they
were precious gemstones. (Yes, they are pricey, but worth it.)

Thursday, January 22, 2015

We had been invited to a presentation; the topic was of greater
interest to Greg than to me. However, free refreshments were promised, so I
tagged along – with my sketchbook, of course.

At some point I picked up a Bic ballpoint pen that had been provided
for note-taking. I know some sketchers swear by the ubiquitous ballpoint for
sketching, saying they can get all degrees of value with just one pen, just
like some people are able to achieve with a pencil. I’ve never been a fan of
ballpoint ink, but I started to see why it’s favored – it’s the kind of medium
that you can keep building layers with.

1/21/15 various inks

I left that pen behind, but now I know that if I’m ever
stuck on Gilligan’s Island, I’ll
remember to grab a Bic that the S. S.Minnow would certainly have onboard.

P.S. Since I didn’t think I was very interested, I didn’t
expect to pay much attention to the presentation while I sketched. I was
surprised to find that I retained almost all of it. I find I can’t talk and
sketch at the same time, but apparently some part of my brain is able to listen
and pay full attention.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

More than a year ago I supported a Kickstarter campaign for Baron Fig, a couple of guys who wanted
to produce a new kind of notebook. I liked their attitude and approach – ask potential
users what kind of notebook they want rather than simply duplicate products
that already exist. They dared to go against the standard dimensions of the
typical A5 notebook, used better paper, made sure the binding opened flat and
gave it other features that appealed to me.

I knew that the notebook’s paper – though fountain pen friendly
and 100 gsm – wouldn’t be heavy enough for watercolor painting, and I’m not
looking for a replacement for my current sketchbook system anyway. I mainly wanted to support the fledgling company because
it seemed like they might listen to customers (which hasn’t been the case with
most notebook manufacturers I know of).

My intention was to use the hardcover Confidant notebookthat I receivedfrom the campaign as a journal. As expected, the paper is smooth
and pleasant to write on with a fountain pen, and the book’s construction is
attractive and seems sturdy. (The Pen AddictandFountain Pen Geekshave
thorough reviews of the notebook with good photos, and many other bloggers have
commented on it.) What’s more, the paper is a
crisp white (instead of ivory), and the books are available with the option of
a plain, unruled page (relatively rare in a vast notebook world that favors all types of
ruling over plain). After an initial scribble to test the paper, I put the
notebook away for future journaling use.

In the year that followed the Kickstarter campaign, Baron
Fig became quite successful and put out a few more notebook designs. Since I had
a plentiful supply of journals on hand, I didn’t pay much attention.

1/19/15 Iroshizuku Take-sumi ink, Baron Fig Confidant

Fast-forward to a couple of weeks ago, when I had a renewed
fit of annoyance with Field Notes Brand,
a popular maker of pocket-sized notebooks. Maybe my annoyance wasn’t specifically
against Field Notes so much as all small
notebook manufacturers: Why can’t anyone make a thin, pocket-sized notebook with
decent paper? I know it would be too much to ask for full-on watercolor paper (for
that, I’m probably stuck with making my own) – but is it too much to ask for paper that could take a light wash from
a waterbrush and be heavy enough that there’s no show-through? Maybe 90 or 100 pound (150 gsm)? (My experience
with a hardboundRhodia notebook last summer convinced
me that if Rhodia came out with a thin, softcover version using the same paper,
it would be as close to ideal as I could expect to get.) Perhaps my internal rant
was directed at Field Notes because last summer it came out with the so-called “Arts
& Sciences” series, which gave me high hopes, but even those notebooks had the
same paper as the rest – unusable for any kind of sketching.

Fast-forward further to the past weekend, when one of the
many fountain pen blogs I read raised my awareness of Baron Fig again – this time
about the limited “Time Travel” edition of its Apprentice line of pocket-sized notebooks. Curious about the paper,
I e-mailed to ask and was told that it is identical to that used in the
Confidant notebook I have.

Hmmm. . . ! All the many reviews I’d read about Baron Fig’s notebooks
were written by fountain pen users, not sketchers. Our needs are not very
different – we all want non-feathering, non-bleeding paper with a relatively smooth
surface (though I require less smoothness than most fountain pen users, since a
bit of tooth is fine and even preferred for sketching). The only additional requirements
I have are the ability to withstand a light wash and enough weight that I can
sketch on both sides. I decided to give the Confidant notebook paper a sketching
workout.

Backside of tree sketch (front was saturated with water and ink)

The first sketch I made was of a bare willow tree while
parked at Whole Foods (at top). As you can see, the top half of the sketch buckled a bit
after I sprayed it with water and took a quick swipe with a waterbrush filled
with ink. But the backside of the same saturated page (at right), while buckled, shows no
more bleed-through than a page with nothing but ink. (The bottom half of the sketch above reveals show-through from the sketch on the next page.)

In another sketch (the planter and the man on a bench, above), I
didn’t use sprayed water or brush-applied ink – just fountain pen ink lightly
washed with a waterbrush. As expected, this time there was no buckling, and the
backside (below) shows only a little bleed-through. The show-through on the back is
more than I would like if I want to sketch on both sides, but it’s no worse
than what I experienced with the Rhodia (which is 90 gsm).

Backside of second sketch (waterbrush wash only)

A pocket-sized version of this paper would be ideal as a
travel journal (the Rhodia I used in Brazil, though the right dimensions, was a
little too bulky because it was hardbound). It might even be acceptable as a
catch-all pocket sketchbook (the role currently served by my handmade sketchbooklets because nothing
store-bought serves that need)! If only the paper were a bit heavier, it would definitely be acceptable. To express my
enthusiasm for a product that comes very close, I ordered a few pocket-sized
Apprentice notebooks to try (I might take one on my next trip).

What’s potentially more exciting than the notebook itself is
the possibility that Baron Fig might
listen to its customers. Here’s what it says on its website:

“Our team contacted all types of thinkers around the world and
asked them one simple question:What do you like
in a Sketchbook or Notebook? Their
thoughts and ideas continue to fuel our research, discussion, and design.”

Monday, January 19, 2015

It’s been close to three months since I sketched a Roosevelt
Light Rail Station construction crane. Too cold to stand on the street or even sit at Starbucks’
outdoor tables where I last sketched one,
today I remembered that the same Starbucks has a bar-like table against large
windows facing the same direction. At a slightly different angle than last time,
I gave that view a try. It’s mostly blocked by large trees, but in a few months
those same trees will be fully in leaf, obstructing the view even more, so I
figured I might as well sketch what I can now.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

If there hadn’t been an Urban Sketchers outing this morning,
I probably would have stayed in bed listening to the torrential rain and wind battering
our windows and skylights. As much as I enjoy sketching at the Pike Place Market, doing so on a
blustery, stormy day does nothing for me. Everything I like to sketch there is either
outdoors or too close to the elements for me to be happy on a day like this.

Despite the ridiculous weather, the Market crowds were
already getting thick, maybe because many people were coming through on their
way to the noon Seahawks game. Before the crowds became daunting, I sketched a
busker who was barely sheltered from the downpour just behind him.

1/15/15 Diamine Sapphire ink, Museum pencil

After that, chilled and uninspired, I wandered around in the
Market’s deep lower bowels trying to warm up. Looking down from a railing
toward the stairwell that leads to Western Avenue, I finally sketched another
busker and got chilled all over again. Eventually I wandered back to the Atrium
for our final sketchbook sharing and killed the last few minutes with twig and
ink. (I think that last hasty sketch was my favorite of the day!)

I might have been crabby about the weather, but it certainly
didn’t keep others away: We had a terrific turnout, including several
first-timers! Only Urban Sketchers (OK, and maybe the Seahawks) can get people
out on a day like this.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Arriving at Third Place Commons a little early for a meeting
this morning, I got a cup of coffee and killed those 20 minutes easily with a
couple of sketches. Back in the day before I started sketching (a little more
than three years ago), what was I doing to entertain myself during small idle
periods like that? I can barely remember. . . I suppose I checked for messages
on my smartphone, but before I had one. . . ? What was life like B.S. (before
sketchbook)?

It was a whole different world – one that was less closely observed,
less engaging. Certainly less entertaining.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Whether these trees were the victims of disease or
over-zealous pruning, it’s hard to say. Tiny twigs were sprouting from some of the
haphazardly whacked branches, so maybe they’ll recover someday.

Although the sky in front of me was dark and foreboding,
behind me the clouds sporadically split apart to let the sun through, and I’d have a
few seconds at a time to put in shadows.

Meanwhile, I don’t know what was
going on with the cones in front of the house – I didn’t see any nearby
holes, construction or other hazards for them to be marking – but I suppose it’s
not the strangest sight I’ve seen in Maple Leaf.

I experienced my own version of the same thing this morning
at Gage life drawing. It had been more than a month since I went to a short-pose session, so I started out cold
and stiff (not unlike getting out of bed every morning). My very first
one-minute sketch makes our slender model Amelia look like a sumo wrestler!

1/15/15 WN watercolor marker
(2-min. pose)

By the end of the two-minute poses, she was looking a bit
more proportional. I was warmed up by the time we got to the 10-minute poses,
and by the last 20-minute pose, I felt like I was finally ready to draw.

It’s humbling to know that without regular practice, I get stiff
and creaky immediately. But it’s also reassuring to know that after a brisk
walk around the block, I can get my bones moving again.